


intimacy of the uneasy variety

by Snowsheba



Series: gency week [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gency, gency week 2, genji has a revelation of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 12:39:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11402583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowsheba/pseuds/Snowsheba
Summary: “My suit regenerates,” Angela says, patient, almost amused. Her voice is tight, though, betraying her pain. “It had to be me.”“No,” Genji says, watching the blood trail down from the corner of her mouth, the strained wheeze of her breaths, the sharp, wrong angle of her arm; “It should not have been.”





	intimacy of the uneasy variety

**Author's Note:**

> prompt today was **protect**.

It’s a grenade, of all things. Like the world had decided that there needed to be more tropes and stereotypes to be fulfilled, and Genji can only watched, frozen, morbidly transfixed, as her wings flare out and she throws herself upon it, her entire body curled and brace for impact.

“No!” someone shouts, and when it explodes, Genji realizes distantly that it’s Reyes and Morrison and Amari and everyone, _everyone_ , who’s screaming in his ear.

* * *

Fear is something he knows intimately. Hard not to, considering the circumstances of his death, the circumstances of his life. He’s been in many situations where adrenaline had kept him alive, and there have been enough guns pointed at him to suit him for a lifetime three times over. Everything pales to this:

He sees her body buck when the grenade explodes. He sees how all of her limbs go limp. He sees her mouth open, hears the scream that tears itself out of her throat, smells the acrid scent of burned polymer, tastes the blood on his tongue, feels the heat and rush of hot air.

He watches an angel fall, and he chokes on nothing and everything.

* * *

She’d been thrown clear a far distance away. Her Valkyrie suit is smoking and hissing, but even from here, he can see the yellow glow as the nanites embedded in the stained white busily stitches themselves together. Everything in his body hurts, but he drags himself to his feet, hissing between breaths, and slowly drags himself over to her, attuning his hearing to her breathing. Lack thereof, perhaps. _No, no_ , he thinks, he can hear her breathe, and he drops to his knees by her side and carefully rolls her onto her side, one hand moving her hair aside to check the pulse at her neck. The beat is strong, against all odds.

She’d taken a grenade point-blank and, as he watches her eyes flutter open, it hadn’t even knocked her out. _Impossible_ , he thinks blankly, yet he had been one of her miracles, had he not?

* * *

“She is stable,” he croaks into his comm, and then he drops his face close to hers and whispers, “You could have died.”

“My suit regenerates,” Angela says, patient, almost amused. Her voice is tight, though, betraying her pain. “It had to be me.”

“No,” Genji says, watching the blood trail down from the corner of her mouth, the strained wheeze of her breaths, the sharp, _wrong_ angle of her arm; “It should not have been.”

* * *

Her staff had clattered some distance away from her, and with some difficulty, he drops it into her hands. She turns it on him, first – classic, he should’ve known, always others before her – and by the time she lets the soft yellow envelop her body, he’s recovered enough to gingerly pick her up, looping her over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. She doesn’t protest beyond a soft grunt of pain at the initial movement, and then he’s pushing forward and keeping low, moving as quickly as he dares through the urban landscape.

“Promise me you won’t do something like that again,” he says eventually. Reyes and Morrison, finally reassured of Angela’s safety, are coordinating their efforts to retrieve the two of them, and the comm chatter is grounding, in the end.

“What I do is not up to you,” Angela answers quietly, and there’s steel in her voice, hard and certain.

“Promise me you’ll be careful, then, if nothing else,” he says.

“Only if you do the same.”

* * *

He can’t. She knows this. As with most things, she has outplayed him, and he concedes his defeat with a sigh.

“I appreciate your concern, Genji,” Angela says, somehow sounding prim despite being slung over his shoulders and being completely unable to stand, and Genji only shakes his head.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” he mutters, and her laugh is light and airy and he wants to kiss her, inexplicably.

* * *

(He confesses this to her later, and she has the gall to smirk, her on her cot in the medbay with her arm in a cast, and says, “All it took was me saving your life, is that it?”

“A catalyst, perhaps,” he says, “But not the cause,” and he cuts her laugh off halfway through with a kiss.)

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on [tumblr](https://snowsheba.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
